


Do You Promise Not to Tell?

by In_love_with_writing002



Series: Jaskier/Lambert in Winter [1]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Aromantic Geralt, Brief Reference to Bondage, Comedy, Drama, Eskel Drinks to Forget, Except for Geralt getting punched, Fake Enemies, Friends With Benefits To Lovers, Gen, Geralt gets punched, Geralt is actually hilarious, Geralt of Rivia is dumb and he knows it, Geralt's perspective, Getting Together, Jaskier and Geralt are Friends, Lambert calls Jaskier Buttercup, Lambert has a praise kink, Low-key Voyeurism, M/M, Non-Explicit Sex, Or Is It?, Outsider Perspective, Papa Vesemir feelings, Romance, Winter At Kaer Morhen, anti-climactic ending, dom/sub dynamics, wrong place wrong time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-23
Updated: 2020-08-23
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:13:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26069284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/In_love_with_writing002/pseuds/In_love_with_writing002
Summary: “Geralt.” Eskel reached out and grabbed him by the shoulders. “Geralt, switch rooms with me tonight. It’s, you’ll-“ Eskel stopped talking. “Just do it.” Geralt’s frown deepened. His room had all of his stuff though. And Eskel’s was right next to Lambert’s, and Geralt was eighty percent sure Lambert snored. “One night, Geralt. Please.”Or,The one where Geralt finds out
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Lambert, Jaskier | Dandelion/Lambert
Series: Jaskier/Lambert in Winter [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1972813
Comments: 40
Kudos: 233





	Do You Promise Not to Tell?

**Author's Note:**

> Finally. After more than a month of work... I'm finally publishing it.
> 
> Gosh, I've been really excited to share this fic. I know it's rarepair and probably won't get much attention, but I hope that the people who _do_ read it enjoy it a lot. If this fic makes even one person ship Lambutt I stg I'll jump for joy.
> 
> A huge thank you to my Discord server for cheering me on the last couple days to finish editing this monster, and to everyone else who let me rant to them about this fic. You guys rock.
> 
> And of course, un-beta'd, all mistakes are mine.

Geralt didn’t understand Jaskier’s enthusiasm about the winter.

Well, until he  _ realized,  _ obviously.

Jaskier and Geralt had spent a few winters together at that point, the bard going to the far northeast of the continent to spend the season at Kaer Morhen with his brothers. Vesemir liked him well enough, his penchant for singing and brightening up a room infectious and spreading even to the old witcher.

Eskel liked Jaskier too, had told Geralt he was glad he had someone else so he didn’t “need to keep an eye on him” on the path. Geralt had rolled his eyes and shoved him for being an overbearing idiot. Geralt appreciated his concern, but he was capable of taking care of  _ himself, _ thank-you-very-much.

And then there was Lambert.

And Lambert and Jaskier….

Lambert only ever spoke with Jaskier to insult him, and shoved him around until he would get knocked to the ground, and complained loudly about him every winter.

And Jaskier gave as good as he got, a witty retort primed and ready as soon as Lambert opened his mouth, would drag Lambert into a spontaneous wrestling match if he made for a takedown, and annoyed him with his music. Loudly.

So. They hated each other.

“I found this set in the last town, Geralt. Look at how bright the red is!” Jaskier was babbling about his clothes, which Geralt tuned out in favour of focusing on making sure the way was clear ahead so they could get to the keep before the sun went down. “I love it. I know the others are going to think it’s garish, of course. Though Eskel likes a flash of red, I noticed. Maybe  _ he  _ will appreciate my efforts. I’m mostly referring to Lambert. Ah! I hope he  _ hates  _ it.” Jaskier laughed mischievously.

Geralt hummed noncommittally. He didn’t mind the outfits Jaskier wore, though some were a bit vibrant for his eyes. Jaskier had gotten rid of his bright green set fairly quickly after Geralt got headaches just from looking at him. The red he wore was still bright, but not aggressively so. It looked good, and Lambert  _ would _ probably hate it.

“I wonder what he’s gotten up to this past year. More illegal stunts with Aiden, I’m sure. Oh, you know that story he tells about that woman’s former husband that he beat up and she repaid him with…” Jaskier trailed off. “Oh,  _ Geralt!  _ Look, the holly is growing so thick over there!” 

Geralt tuned him out, spotting the doors to the lowest courtyard in the distance. At that point, it seemed like a beacon of safety. “Thank  _ fuck,” _ he murmured to himself, tugging Roach a little faster up the path. “Come on, Jaskier.”

Jaskier stood up from where he was admiring the plants off to the side and hauled his lute higher over his shoulder. “Alright,” he grumbled, hopping through the snow after him.

Geralt followed the path up higher until he was looking up at the large doors of the keep. “Hello?” Usually they opened the doors as they were riding up.  _ Someone _ had to have been on lookout.

“What’s the password?” Called a voice from the other side.

“Open the fucking door, Lambert,” Geralt growled, trying to shove at it. Nothing.

“Nope!” He yelled back. “Two more tries!”

“I will come in there and kick your ass if you don’t listen to me right now,” Geralt beat his fist on the door, but still nothing.

“Gonna take more than a little dirty talk to get in, Gary.” So that was how this was going to go. Geralt stepped back, raising a hand to make the sign for  _ Aard _ when Jaskier grabbed him.

“Hold on,” Jaskier said. “I’ve got it.” he walked up to the door and knocked.

“Yeeeees?” Came Lambert’s still muffled sing-songy voice.

“Lambert, please be a dear and open the door.”

“Buttercup!” Called the voice. Almost immediately one of the doors began to open, and Jaskier pushed past to help open the other one. “You look like shit, as usual,” Lambert said pleasantly.

“You wound me darling, truly.”

Lambert’s laugh rang loudly over the stillness of the early winter air, and Geralt led Roach through while rolling his eyes. He started immediately for the stables, only half-hearing the conversation behind him.

“That outfit is  _ horrendous _ , Buttercup.”

“Oh, I’m so glad! I wore it just to piss you off.”

“I’m flattered, really.”

\- -

After setting Roach in Geralt went to the main keep, seeing Eskel heading towards the chicken coop.

“Good to see you,” Eskel said, slapping Geralt briefly on the shoulder. “The other two are already inside.”

Geralt sighed in exasperation and returned the affectionate thump, heading through the doors into what he knew would be some sort of bizzare peacocking.

“You’re really just the worst, you know that?” Said a soft voice. Jaskier.

“Yeah,” said another back to it. Geralt looked towards where the voices were coming from and saw Lambert and Jaskier walking around a corner together. Geralt settled down at one of the tables to wait for Vesemir to come and say hello, but the amount of  _ noise _ Lambert and Jaskier made was keeping him from having a nice quiet afternoon.

“I don’t know why I associate with any of you,” Jaskier said, and there was a very quiet sound that Geralt couldn’t identify. Probably just a breath of air. “Then again, I’m no honor citizen myself.”

“Really?” Lambert’s voice had an edge to it, though he still sounded relaxed.

“Mm-hm,” Jaskier responded, and Geralt could hear him adjust his clothes. “You’ll have to do a little more than cold-blooded murder to get on my level.”

_ “What?” _ Lambert asked, shrill and loud. Geralt felt a smile spread across his face while Jaskier told a vague story about a time he almost burnt down an entire village. Geralt had been the one to get him out of the situation, and was familiar with the whole incident. It had been in a village south of Toussaint, back when Jaskier had discovered  _ Igni, _ and then tried to display a dance he’d learned back in university. One torch-related accident later, and they were running from angry townsfolk while half of their village burned down.

“Yes, so you’ll have to do better,” Jaskier said again, and Geralt heard their shoulders bump together. Footsteps echoed from the hallway as they started walking again.

“You’re a nightmare, Buttercup,” Lambert chuckled.

“Sure, Lamb.”

Geralt thought something was going to be said about the nickname, but their voices faded after a few moments, leaving Geralt to wait for Vesemir.

\- -

Days were busy in early winter, and Geralt found himself more often than not seated at a table playing Gwent with Lambert, or eating, or out in the courtyard practicing under Vesemir’s watchful eye. Of course, there were also chores to do, holes in the keep to repair or chickens or horses to take care of, scouting to do and occasional monster-hunting within that. All in all, there was no excess of free time. That would change when the snow came in, so everyone made the most of it. Even Jaskier was called in to help, entertainment during the night, a helping hand in the stables or watchful eye during repairs, an unfair judge for practice fights who randomly decided who won regardless of how the duel ended.

Things were good.

Geralt was happy to be home, surrounded by his family, his best friend, good food, and his oldest memories. Evenings where they drank had him cracking genuine smiles at Eskel’s stupid jokes or Lambert’s ridiculous stories. Even Lambert and Jaskier insulting each other became tolerable, why, nearly  _ amusing _ after enough rum and White Gull.

“I think you made that up,” Jaskier was saying after Lambert told them about a fight with a pack of nearly twenty wargs a few days into their stay. “You wouldn’t have been able to come out of that uninjured. Geralt at his best can take twelve, maybe fifteen on special occasions.”

“I’m just better than Geralt,” Lambert said. Geralt wasn’t even angry at the little dig. Jaskier jerked, a telltale sign he’d kicked Lambert’s ankle under the table.

“Dick,” Jaskier scoffed.

“We haven’t actually done a comparison before, but I think it’s safe to say I’m better there too. Why, are you asking?” Lambert sent a lewd wink his way and Jaskier recoiled, sending Eskel into a fit of laughter. Jaskier’s face filled with a blush and he huffed repeatedly while Geralt hid his laughter in his drink. Jaskier kicked Lambert under the table again, but that did nothing to deter him. “Nah, it was a lot of Wargs. I guess they might’ve gotten one or two hits in, but I barely...” Lambert trailed off, looking at Jaskier.

“What?” Jaskier asked, voice still a little high from his embarrassment.

“Anyone ever told you that your eyes stand out more when you blush?” He gave the same salacious wink and Jaskier hid his face in a tankard. Eskel started laughing again; and Geralt feared his brother would fall off the bench entirely. Lambert could be relentless in his teasing, Geralt knew it firsthand, and hoped it wouldn’t last forever like it tended to. He stayed quiet and listened while he drank, the stories continuing, but with the addition of teasing Jaskier in the pauses.

“And so I pulled out my sword and I said ‘If you want a piece of this ass, you’ll have to chase me!’ (Course if  _ you  _ wanted a piece, Buttercup, you'd just have to ask.) So I ran off, luring them away from their territory, and I got them alone, one by one. Pretty easy pickings after that.”

By the end of the story, Geralt wasn’t sure whether to be impressed by Lambert’s battle or to be amused about how deep the red on Jaskier’s face was. The air was thick with his embarrassment and Jaskier looked like he wanted to throttle Lambert across the table.

“If you two keep me awake tonight I’m blaming Lambert,” Eskel declared. Jaskier groaned and covered his ears in his embarrassment.

“Leave off of him,” Geralt muttered to Lambert, who had a glint in his eye.

“I’m just having a little fun with him,” Lambert replied. Jaskier looked up from the table, a glare on his face.

“I’m going to kill you,” he mumbled.

“Tempting,” Lambert responded. He stood up after that, stretching and declaring himself ready for bed. “You going to join me, Buttercup?” He asked with a teasing roll of his hips. Jaskier made a distressed sound but said nothing, still speechless from the evening of goading. Lambert laughed as he shuffled away, and Geralt looked at Jaskier to ensure he was alright. Other than his embarrassment and the red flush all over his body he seemed alright, a little drunk but fine.

“Gods, can you believe him?” Jaskier asked, his forehead still on the table. “I said one word.  _ One word. _ And he-“ Jaskier made another frustrated noise, and Geralt worried for a moment he was going to make use of the dagger he carried in his boot to castrate his brother.

Well, maybe he deserved it.

Would it really be so bad? Geralt considered the complaining afterward. Not worth it.

“Don’t cut his dick off,” Geralt cautioned. Sober Geralt wouldn’t have said that, he thought in a moment of clarity.

“I’m not—  _ Geralt! _ ” Jaskier shot back in a pitchy, shrill tone. “Fuck this,” he said, and slammed back the rest of his drink. “I’m going to bed.” He rose and headed towards the bedrooms, leaving Eskel and Geralt by themselves.

“They’re going to be so damn loud tonight,” Eskel complained. “I just want some decent sleep this winter without  _ hearing _ them.” He scratched idly at the table. That implied something, Geralt thought. Though for the life of him he couldn’t figure out what it meant.

“What?” He asked, the best he could come up with to press for more information. Eskel sighed.

“You know,” he said, like it was obvious. Geralt didn’t know, so he twisted his lips into a frown. “Really?” Eskel said. “Are you stupid?”

“Maybe.” Geralt considered the possibility. He could be. He’d been told he was dumb by Jaskier a few times, and Yen thought that he was an idiot. Maybe they were right. No, he was probably just drunk.

“Geralt.” Eskel reached out and grabbed him by the shoulders. “Geralt, switch rooms with me tonight. It’s, you’ll-“ Eskel stopped talking. “Just  _ do it.” _ Geralt’s frown deepened. His room had all of his stuff though. And Eskel’s was right next to Lambert’s, and Geralt was eighty percent sure Lambert snored. “One night, Geralt.  _ Please. _ ”

“Fine,” Geralt found himself agreeing. “I don’t understand why though.”

They said their good nights to each other and parted for the others’ room, Eskel with a bit of a spring in his step. “Sleep well, Geralt!” Eskel said, sounding like he didn’t mean it at all. Geralt frowned but waved him off to bed, continuing down the hallway to where Eskel’s room was. From the hall it was quiet, and Geralt felt compelled to match the noise by sneaking silently into the room.

Geralt had been in the room since Eskel claimed it as his of course, was familiar with the trinkets everywhere. Eskel’s bed was one of the largest in Kaer Morhen, a treasure he’d dug up from the ruins following the siege. There had been a fight over who got it, but Vesemir reasoned that since Eskel found it, it was rightfully his. It had started off a big game of finders-keepers, and Geralt still had several of his treasures in his room, including an alchemy kit with extra supplies that Geralt used for emergencies. Lambert had taken a lot of the climbing gear, and Vesemir hoarded all the books.

Geralt stripped out of his clothes and slipped into the bed, enjoying the large comfortable space. It smelled like Eskel in the room, a comfort he had forgotten about after so many years without it. He hadn’t even  _ shared _ a bed with Eskel since the fall of Kaer Morhen, save for that first winter when they needed the comfort of someone to remind them that the other was still alive. Eskel’s scent was a spicy blend of sandalwood and rosemary from his hair washing oil, but also sweat and dirt. Geralt sighed contentedly, burying his face into the pillow. This was  _ luxury. _ Why would Eskel ever want to give it up?

_ “I couldn’t even speak.” _ A voice snatched sleep away from him, and out of curious habit, Geralt began trying to find the source.  _ “Do you know how hard it is to respond when I’m thinking about you?” _ Geralt stiffened when he realized it was coming from the wall behind his head.

_ “Got you in here, didn’t it?” _ There was a second voice, this one much closer to Geralt’s head. Whoever it was they were right on the other side of the wall.  _ “You were too easy, Buttercup.” _ If the voice didn’t help Geralt figure out who it was, the nickname certainly did. Lambert. And by inferring, the other voice must have been Jaskier.

Oh gods.

Oh fuck.

_ “You were very mean to me, Lambert. I’m not sure you really deserve it.” _

Geralt wanted to rip off his fucking ears.

_ “No, come on!”  _ Lambert’s voice was whiny, distress clear.  _ “I can be good.” _ If Geralt didn’t want to suffocate before, he was more than happy to do so then.

_ “Really? After that little display?” _ Jaskier chastised. Another needy whine from Lambert that made Geralt want to find a comfy hole to die in.  _ “Take off your clothes.” _ There was some shuffling, the sound of metal on metal when Lambert’s belt came off, and Geralt’s silent suffering.

_ “Good,” _ said Jaskier, voice much closer than it was before.  _ “Over here.” _

Geralt could hear a sharp snap as Jaskier said the command, and footsteps sounded as Lambert supposedly obeyed.

_ “Good. You’re doing well so far.” _ There was a very quiet sigh that had to be from Lambert, though it sounded  _ happy _ .  _ “I want you to kneel for me.” _

And Geralt wanted to be anywhere else. He got up from the bed and walked to the other side of the room, cold and uncomfortable instead of soft and warm like the bed, but the  _ worst  _ part was that it wasn’t even much quieter. He could still hear  _ everything. _

_ “Good,” _ Jaskier praised, and Geralt covered his face with his hands. He was going to kill both of them. Especially when he could hear a quiet rumbling from Lambert, that sounded suspiciously like…  _ “Don’t think I’ll forgive you just because you’re being cute. quit it.” _

Geralt tried not to gag when the rumbling stopped. _No,_ _fuck_ , don’t think about gagging.

_ “That’s it. You’ll have plenty to purr about later.” _

Geralt put his hands over his ears, but  _ curse _ his mutant hearing, because still, his voice was clear—

_ “Now put your mouth to good use.” _ There was a quiet thud against the wall as Jaskier sighed, and more shuffling from clothing, and then silence, broken only by Geralt’s loud breathing. With his hands over his ears he couldn’t hear any other sounds, which he was grateful for. But then Jaskier started  _ talking _ again, his voice with the ring of a command.

_ “You gave me compliments and flirted with me in front of Geralt, Lamb. Now, it’s fine that Eskel knows; we talked about that, but we haven’t talked about Geralt yet.” _ Silence.  _ “I see,”  _ Jaskier said.  _ “Mmn, do that- yeah, that’s good, that’s- nngh, really good.” _

Geralt could swear that the soft, pleased moans and sighs from Jaskier were going to be the death of him.

_ “So we’ll wait for a while, see if he figures it out on his own this year. Sounds- okay. I’ll stop talking about him. Use your hands too, mmnff!” _ There was a thud as Jaskier’s head hit the wall again.  _ “Always so quick, slow d- gods that’s, okay, just— yeah, ffffuck.” _

Geralt could feel his own face growing warm, blood flooding his cheeks easily with the alcohol in his system. He wished he had more to drink.

_ “Alright, off. Off! Good.”  _

Geralt could hear slightly roughened breathing from both of them, though Lambert’s was heavier.  _ “Can you be good for me and get on the bed now? Lay on your back, relax and settle down, I’ll give you a kiss.” _ Okay, that was a little nicer. But still. Weird.

_ “My shoulders are sore as hell.” _

_ “I’m still very sorry about that. I should have remembered that you would have more trouble with the ropes.” _

Oh, gods damn them, Geralt thought, taking back his earlier thoughts about Jaskier being nice. He  _ really _ didn’t want to think about his brother’s sexual adventures. Too late for that, he supposed. The verbal sparring made more sense now as well. The tenderness to contrast the aggression. Geralt grew a fondness for the way Jaskier and Lambert treated each other, but his happiness was short-lived when a low groan came through the wall.

_ “Thanks, Buttercup,” _ Lambert muttered. Geralt could imagine they kissed next.

_ “Of course,” _ Jaskier replied.  _ “Should I grab the oil?” _ A silent response. Footsteps. A drawer opening. Shutting. Footsteps.  _ “How should I…” _

Geralt could almost  _ see _ the gesture.

_ “Do the uh, the thing.” _

_ “You mean the-“ _ there was a pause.  _ “Talking thing?” _

“ _ Yeah.” _ A throat was cleared. Probably Jaskier.

_ “All laid out like this, you look so beautiful.” _ There was a soft sigh of contentment.  _ “You like when I call you that? Hmm,” _ a pause, a soft creak from a bed.  _ “But you weren’t very nice to me tonight.” _

_ “Mmn,” _ Lambert replied.  _ “I was impatient.” _ His voice was light and soft, and Geralt’s mind filled in the image of Jaskier with a hand on Lambert’s dick, which  _ gods, _ really needed to scrub that one from his mind.

_ “I could tell,” _ Jaskier said.  _ “You’ll be patient with me now, won’t you? You’ll be patient and good, and I’ll tell you what to do and you’ll listen.” _

Lambert moaned softly in response. Geralt cursed under his breath in frustration when the rumbling started again. He didn’t want to listen. He  _ really _ didn’t want to listen.

_ “I want you to take those wonderfully thick fingers of yours, and-“ _

Geralt didn’t hear anything else, standing in a rush and throwing his clothes back on, storming out of Eskel’s room and back to his own.

“I can’t get comfortable on your small-ass bed, Geralt,” Eskel was saying as he barged in, shutting the door behind himself.

“Move,” Geralt growled, shoving Eskel off to the side. His bed was perfectly big enough, he knew that. Eskel could get over one night without the luxury of space to bear not listening to Lambert and Jaskier down the hall. He slid under the covers fully dressed, grabbing his pillow and covering his head with it.

“That bad, hm?” Eskel sounded smug, but sympathetic. Geralt groaned in annoyance, finally letting out the sound from his throat. “How much did you hear?”

“ _ Too much,” _ Geralt replied, still trying to block out the sounds replaying in his head. “I just want to sleep.”

“We both do. Now stop hogging the pillow.”

\- -

Now that Geralt  _ knew, _ he resolutely tried his best to ignore it the next day. He didn’t say anything, but he was hyper aware of every time he talked to each of them, hearing Lambert curse Jaskier out and thinking about how he’d heard that same voice say  _ “I’ll be good” _ in a desperate whine, how he’d heard Jaskier command Lambert firmly and he  _ listened. _

It was midday and Geralt was fixing up a hole in the roof over the kitchen, standing high above ground in the rafters— usually a job reserved for Lambert, but he was on cooking duty that evening, and was hacking at a deer to get it into smaller pieces while Geralt slathered a paste over bricks above his head to get them to stay. It wasn’t a particularly intense job and Lambert didn’t know he was there, which meant Geralt had mostly silence while he worked. Peaceful, though the job was important, and needed to be done as soon as possible to bear the weight of what would happen when the snows came in.

“Jaskier,” Geralt heard from below, and he glanced down to see Jaskier stride confidently into the kitchen, Lambert setting down his knife to greet him. Jaskier shimmied right into the circle of his arms, meeting their lips together for a kiss.

It was one thing to hear it through a wall, Geralt thought, and another thing entirely to witness it with his own eyes. They kissed for longer than Geralt expected, Jaskier’s hand splaying wide over the side of Lambert’s face before gripping his jaw. Lambert made a noise Geralt was sure he would deny was a whine and then his arms were around Jaskier’s waist. Geralt saw them part with a gentle sound, but when he tried to look away found himself intrigued.

“I haven’t seen you at all today,” Jaskier was saying quietly. The hand that had been gripping his jaw ran through his hair and traced shapes where it came to rest on Lambert’s back.

“You know,” Lambert replied with a shrug. “Been busy.” They kissed again, a much shorter one that was just a quick press of their lips together.

“Too busy for a proper good morning before you ran off?” Jaskier scoffed.

“Sorry, Buttercup,” Lambert leaned in and rested his head in the crook of Jaskier’s neck. “Thought you’d understand. After things with Geralt last night, I-“

“Oh, hush,” Jaskier cut him off, and Geralt caught a glimpse of the smile on his face. “I’m just trying to get you to kiss me again.” And Lambert indulged him, seemingly to Jaskier’s delight. 

Geralt rolled his eyes and focused back on his task, sliding a brick into the still-drafty patch in the roof, pressing the paste in to get it to seal. When the conversation below him continued he only half paid attention.

“If you’re still down on yourself about Geralt don’t worry,” Jaskier said. “The worst that happens is he knows now, and if he hasn’t said anything at this point he might never say anything. I count it as a win.”

Lambert’s grunt wasn’t convinced. “Or he’s against it and is just avoiding talking about it entirely.”

“While that  _ sounds _ like Geralt, I really don’t think that’s true, Lamb.” The nickname put a bitter taste in the back of Geralt’s mouth, the  _ memory _ of what he’d  _ heard _ returning. “He might be an ass but he cares about you.”

“Yeah,” Lambert mumbled. “Plus, fuck him if he doesn’t approve anyway. We’re both grown men capable of making decisions.” That was actually pretty reasonable, but—  _ ouch. _ Geralt resisted the temptation to kick a brick down on the off chance it might hit Jaskier, and also to keep his presence a secret.

“Would one of those decisions include finishing this faster so we can have another try with those ropes?”

Geralt could hear the tease in his voice, and any fondness he’d had for either of them disappeared as soon as it came.

“You’ll bitch at me if the cuts are uneven,” Lambert retorted. Jaskier laughed, and Geralt peeked down again to see them still pressed close to each other, shoulder to knee. Their foreheads were resting together and they were both grinning, the very air around them leaking with the adoration they held for each other.

“That’s true,” Jaskier mused. “Fine. I’ll go sit in the bath house, but I will expect company soon, to make up for my  _ boring  _ morning.” They spun around in their embrace, and Geralt saw Lambert’s hands gripping firmly on the bard’s rear.

“Alright, alright,” Lambert chuckled against his neck, kissing it. The grin on Jaskier’s face was  _ glowing. _ “Get out of here before I get any ideas.” They kissed and Geralt felt the corners of his lips tug up, abandoning any pretense of doing work to observe the interaction.

“Don’t take too long, Lamb.” Jaskier released him and walked out of the kitchen when Lambert only grunted in response, staring after him with a content smile before it dissolved into something like shock. Geralt recognized panic on his face before Lambert looked down at his hands in surprise.

“Oh fuck, I’m in love with him.”

Suddenly the entire thing felt like too much, too much for Geralt to bear. To watch his brother admit his feelings to himself felt like he’d been intruding on something far too personal. He  _ never _ should have listened. He should have said something or  _ done _ something to make them aware of his presence _. _ Now he had to carry Lambert’s feelings as well, the gravity of the depth of his emotions for Jaskier.

How long had this been going on? It couldn’t have just been that year. Geralt must really have been blind to not notice what they were doing in Kaer Morhen each winter. But now he knew, not just their secret but he  _ knew  _ how Lambert felt.

And he  _ knew _ Jaskier, knew he had a habit of falling into bed with people because he fell in love so easily, knew that Jaskier’s affection was freely given but never to be underestimated, because he loved with his entire being. He’d been the  _ subject _ of that love for a while, he’d learned once. But Jaskier had said it was a fleeting attraction, and that it had settled into something comfortably platonic, even if it remained. If he’d stayed with Lambert for as long as Geralt was beginning to suspect, then he must  _ really  _ be in love with him, and not the love he shared with others, the one that was recklessly given and often rejected, but a  _ selfish  _ love, the kind of love that made Jaskier do dangerous, stupid things. The kind of love that Jaskier would fight for with words and fists, because it was a love he wanted to  _ keep. _

\- -

When Jaskier came into the library that evening after dinner, Geralt knew it was his moment to say something. He knew he could be casual about it, just a simple “You and Lambert seem good together, and you have my blessing.” Sure, Geralt knew he couldn’t  _ really _ keep Jaskier from doing anything he wanted, but he wanted to offer his support, especially with the knowledge he had about Lambert’s deeper feelings.

So he stood up from where he’d been reading about Fae, and approached the bard.

“Jaskier,” he said in greeting.

“Oh! Geralt!” Jaskier jumped a little in surprise, and Geralt saw the flush crawling rapidly up his cheeks in embarrassment. “What are you doing here?”

Geralt blinked at him.

“You… you live here. My apologies, stupid question. I, ah, came- well, that is I  _ wanted  _ to come— er,” he grew visibly more flustered and Geralt had a suspicion that Jaskier was trying to dodge around his own dirty jokes. “I’m sorry,” Jaskier said, voice considerably higher and nearly cracking. “C-Can I help you?”

Geralt opened his mouth to speak, but the door near Jaskier opened and in stepped Lambert, looking a little disheveled _. _

“Lambert! Geralt and I were just having a chat, you can take your miserable company  _ elsewhere _ for a bit.” Ah, how could he have forgotten about their attempts at secretive banter?

“He can stay,” Geralt said. “More convenient, honestly.” Geralt tucked his book under his arm. “I wanted to say that-“

“You’re the one who’s miserable,  _ Buttercup. _ ” It was as if Geralt hadn’t said anything.

“Lambert, Jaskier, It’s—“

“That was rude, interrupting Geralt like that,” Jaskier scoffed, interrupting Geralt. “You ought to apologize.” Jaskier shouldered past Geralt and approached Lambert, waving a chiding finger. Geralt felt a headache blooming behind his eyes.

“Oh yeah?” Lambert asked, leaning into Jaskier’s space. “Why don’t you make me?”

“I would lay you out in this library, but  _ I _ happen to be  _ respectful  _ of your home.”

Geralt pinched the bridge of his nose. So much for offering his blessing. “Will you two just-“

“Not like you’re much of a fighter anyway. What’s that you’re always saying?” Lambert’s voice rose several octaves, and he mimicked Jaskier’s accent. “A poet’s weapons are his words.”

“I can think of a few words for you,  _ wolf.” _

Geralt growled in frustration, throwing his book at them.

“You’re  _ idiots _ . Both of you,” he said when they looked over. “If you weren’t fucking already I’d lock you in the fucking storage room.” He stalked off to bed with a pounding in his skull.

\- -

“Hello, boys!” Jaskier greeted as he wandered into the dining hall early the next morning, finding where Geralt and Eskel had been lamenting their reality. Jaskier’s hair was a mess from how he usually kept it, and he had a grin on his face that Geralt, after years of knowing him, knew meant he’d had a  _ very  _ good morning. He tried not to choke on his kasha.

“Still some left? I’ve worked up  _ quite _ an appetite.”

Eskel rolled his eyes, though he gestured to the larger pot of it on the table.

“Wonderful.” Jaskier hummed as he walked, scooping himself a bowl and settling down next to Eskel to eat. “So Geralt,” Jaskier began, pouring honey over his meal. “How long have you known about ah,  _ things? _ ” Oh, apparently now was the time to have this conversation. Geralt looked to Eskel for help, but his brother rapidly busied himself with eating.

“Not long,” Geralt muttered, pushing his kasha around his bowl while contemplating Eskel’s betrayal. “Night before last.”

Jaskier paused and looked at him for a moment, mouth open like he was going to say something, then closed it again and looked down. “Might I ask what tipped you off?”

“Eskel.” Geralt saw Jaskier glance over at Eskel, who shrugged.

“Hm,” Jaskier stirred his kasha and took a healing spoonful. “And what do you… do you have anything to say about it?”

“I’d really rather not do this over breakfast,” Eskel chimed in. Geralt grunted his agreement, though really he’d rather not have the conversation at all. He didn’t know what Lambert had said about his feelings for him, and didn’t want to risk saying something that would end badly. It was safest to end things there and not risk anything being revealed.

“Right, yeah.” Jaskier’s tone was easy to read, the:  _ but this conversation isn’t over _ hanging just off the end. Geralt finished his food and stood from the table, subtly announcing his exit. He needed to check on the roof again and make sure it would be ready for the coming month, patch any holes he found, and it was his turn to cook that day. The news about Lambert and Jaskier was exciting, but he couldn’t think about it for too long— there was work to be done.

He was on the roof fixing a hole that afternoon when he heard familiar footsteps approach.

“Lambert,” he said, setting down his brick and trowel.

“I thought I might find you up here,” Lambert replied. “Buttercup tells me you’re avoiding him.”

“He wants to talk about you, and I…” he sighed and turned around to face him. “Don’t.” Lambert crossed his arms, sitting into his hip. “I tried to talk to you last night, but you seemed  _ preoccupied. _ ”

“Caught us at a bad time.” Lambert shrugged, though Geralt could see the color building in his cheeks.

“I could tell,” Geralt huffed. He stood up and wiped his hands off on his tunic.

“Well, I’m here now-“

“I know that you love him-“

They spoke at the same time, though Lambert quieted at Geralt’s words, eyes widening. “And that’s okay with me.” He felt like he should get that out of the way quickly. “You two don’t seem like this is a recent thing that’s been going on, and I…” Geralt waved a hand. “It’s not my place to get involved. Honestly, I’d really rather this stay as far away from me as possible.”

Lambert flashed him a slightly smug grin, raising a brow and setting his hands on his hips as he shifted his weight.

“You deserve a shot at happiness though, and if you get that with Jaskier…” Geralt sighed softly, unable to figure out how to phrase the rest of his thoughts.

“Thanks, Geralt,” Lambert said. “And… don’t go telling him about that, hm?”

“Our secret.” Geralt extended a hand to shake, and Lambert took it, squeezing before letting go. “So… how long?”

“You’re probably not gonna like the answer,” Lambert warned, his grin out in full force. Geralt had a momentary flashback— five years before, the first winter he’d brought Jaskier, the two of them at each other’s throats— and he heard Lambert laugh.

“ _ Lambert.. _ .“

“ _ Seven years,  _ Geralt.”

The confession left him feeling even more mortified.

“We met seven years ago. He was playing at some event in Redania, eyeing me up all day. Said he knew another wolf, that it was only fair to take me around town.” Lambert looked up towards the sky, as if recalling the memory. “I thought he was crazy for hanging around a Witcher, but he was so damn insistent…”

Geralt could picture the scene Lambert was painting, could imagine Jaskier being stubborn and dragging Lambert out of wherever he would have otherwise been content to stay.

“So we spent the day together, and then…” Lambert raised his eyebrows. “The  _ night _ together, and then a couple more… days…” Lambert trailed off, and Geralt saw his expression grow more and more fond. “Anyway, we talked about a lot of shit. Got to know each other. Agreed that if we ever met in Kaer Morhen that you’d get pissed, So we kept it a secret.”

Geralt would have been a little offended that Lambert and Jaskier didn’t think they could trust him back then, but he knew what he had been like, so he understood. He’d needed that time to grow into himself a bit more. Sure it  _ still _ seemed weird to him, but he could respect their relationship more than he could have if he had found out back then.

“Yeah,” Lambert sighed, pulling Geralt from his thoughts. “It’s been a while.”

“And you only found out you were in love with him  _ yesterday?” _ Geralt asked. Lambert shook his head.

“I never said I was smart,” he mumbled. “I got there eventually.”

“Better late than never, I guess,” Geralt agreed. “What are you going to do about it? Wait until the end of the decade?”

Lambert ran a hand over his face. “I don’t fucking know,” he groaned. “He’s a  _ human. _ We’re not supposed to get attached to humans.”  _ Not supposed to get attached. _ Geralt could have smacked him. As though Geralt hadn’t been friends with Jaskier for over a decade.

“You realize he’s been my companion for almost fourteen years, right?”

“And?”

Geralt knew he was making a face, because Lambert was looking at him like he was making a face— “You…” Geralt shook his head. “You really are an idiot.”

Lambert put his hands on his hips. “What?” He asked defiantly. There were some things that Jaskier and Lambert needed to figure out on their own.

“Get off the roof before I throw you off, Lambert.”

“ _ What did I say?” _

Hopeless.

\- -

Geralt had thought Lambert and Jaskier were insufferable when they were fighting, but it was  _ almost _ worse when they gave up the illusion. Sure, it made sense, now that both he and Eskel knew, but the change was abrupt and dramatic.

Over the next week, what once were quiet evenings spent drinking and playing cards now featured Jaskier sitting in Lambert’s lap, or half draped over his back, or sidled under his arm with a hand curled over his thigh. Jaskier would whisper to Lambert frequently on those nights, and they inevitably ended with Lambert loudly declaring he was going to bed, tossing Jaskier over his shoulder, and Geralt found himself with an extra body beside him while Eskel used his room to escape the noise.

Vesemir saw them walk out together once in the morning and had lifted an eyebrow, but after Eskel and Geralt both shook their heads miserably he nodded in understanding and never asked again.

The mornings usually had the pair separated, one eating while the other made use of the bath. More often than not it was Jaskier who ate with them, and Geralt  _ really _ didn’t want to think about those implications, especially when Jaskier was sauntering in reeking of sex and  _ whistling _ . They weren’t even  _ trying _ anymore.

It was a rare day when Geralt got up first in the morning, but he had decided to have a bath in the early light. Geralt was settling into the large central pool of the bathhouse for a soak when someone wandered in.

“Oh!” Jaskier’s voice echoed into the open room. “Ah, maybe we should-“

“It’s only Geralt,” Lambert’s voice replied.

“Are you sure? I know you’re not…” his voice trailed off.

“Buttercup,” Lambert said softly. “It’s okay, I er.”

Geralt could almost hear him shifting awkwardly. 

“I trust him.” That was kind of sweet, Geralt thought. Whatever it was, he could be gracious about it.

“Alright then,” Jaskier sighed, taking a couple breaths that left the air thick with suspense. “Undress and fold your clothes. Put them on the shelf there.”

Geralt tilted his head, feeling discomfort creep through his skin. Maybe he  _ should _ leave, but he already knew so much and...

He had to admit he was curious; Lambert said he  _ trusted him _ with this… whatever it was. There was silence save for the sounds of cloth over skin, and Geralt kept his eyes dutifully forward, even if he wanted to look back.

“Good,” Jaskier said. “It’s good to see that you aren’t hurt, either.” Footsteps coming closer. Clothing falling near Geralt’s head.

“Move your clothes before they get wet,” Geralt said.

“Oh, so you  _ are _ awake! You were being so quiet, I thought you might have fallen asleep.”

Geralt shook his head silently, feeling the air behind him shift as Jaskier picked up his clothes.

“Does that change anything, Lamb?” Jaskier asked, his voice dripping with the same commanding tone from before.

“No,” Lambert said, quickly adding on “Unless it makes you uncomfortable.”

“No, I’m still fine,” Jaskier replied. Geralt continued not looking when Jaskier walked away, then only followed his feet as Jaskier washed off with the buckets off to the side. “Come here,” he said softly, and more footsteps approached, Lambert going right to Jaskier and moving close. “Let’s wash you off, then we’ll sit in the bath, okay?” No response, so Geralt assumed he nodded. He was still forcing himself not to look just to see what was happening, aware of the tension between them. It was interesting and fascinating, but Geralt thought that  _ watching _ might make him seem like he was  _ interested _ , which he—

Well—

He wasn’t  _ trying _ to be.

“Where do you want me?” Jaskier asked. “Do you want me to sit beside you? Across from you?”

“Lap,” Lambert said, though the word came out a little strangled. “I Want you close to me.” There was a telltale sound of a soft kiss and Geralt saw them both come closer and settle into the tub on the adjacent side. He let his gaze stray to them, telling himself it would only be a glance because he  _ really _ felt like he shouldn’t be  _ watching _ . Jaskier was sitting in Lambert’s lap and leaning back against his chest, Lambert holding him with his arms wrapped around his waist.

They really looked happy, Geralt thought, noting the way both of their eyes shut after they settled into the position. Jaskier was smiling softly, and Lambert looked more relaxed and comfortable than Geralt had seen him in ages. Geralt felt out of place in the scenario, which felt like it should have been reserved for a more private space. But here it was, and the exchange was… beyond intimate, but not  _ sexual, _ inherently. Just Jaskier, leaning back against Lambert’s chest, their power dynamic still at work.

Lambert muttered something too muffled to understand against Jaskier’s shoulder, and their position adjusted a little.

“You’re sure?” Jaskier asked, his voice clearer than Lambert’s. He looked at Geralt for a second and Geralt blinked at being caught staring, looking away quickly. There was a pause and Geralt heard Jaskier take a breath. His voice slipped into a lower register, barely over a gentle murmur as he spoke.

“It was lovely to have you this morning,” Jaskier muttered, and Geralt’s eyes were helplessly drawn back to them. “You’re getting so good at telling me what you want.“

Geralt could feel warmth spread across his cheeks when he saw Lambert’s arms tighten around him.

“You’re  _ always _ good, Lamb, but I’m very proud of you.”

Geralt, upon realizing he had been staring for a while, looked away.

Think about something else, he told himself, trying to ignore Jaskier, who continued to say quiet praises while Lambert held him close. Think about scheduling. He didn’t have anything else really going on that day, but he couldn’t just waste away in the bath for hours. As comfortable and warm as it was, he really ought to do something else.

At least that’s what he was thinking, until Eskel burst into the bath house.

“This is where you three have been hiding this morning!” He called in greeting, and Geralt looked over his shoulder to see him already taking off his clothes. 

“Oh!” Jaskier had stopped droning on, resettling against Lambert’s chest. “Eskel’s here, Lamb, if you want to come back to us.” The words were soft but muttered quickly, urgently. Lambert grunted against Jaskier’s shoulder, securing his arms even more tightly around his waist. “Alright, a little longer then.”

“Thank the gods you took care of the roof already, Geralt,” Eskel said as he walked towards the buckets to scrub off. “Vesemir’s restless, waiting for the snow to come in. I would have been up there today if not for your work.”

“Yeah,” Geralt mumbled, fighting away the flush in his cheeks. He flicked his gaze between Eskel and Lambert and Jaskier, listening close when he realized Jaskier was still talking.

“Sounds you make…”

Geralt concentrated back on Eskel. “It’s not like I had much else going on.” Geralt shrugged for emphasis, looking over at him.

“Well, without it I wouldn’t have gotten this chance. So thanks.” Eskel scrubbed off mostly in silence, leaving Geralt to think about the whispered words in the space.

“Never enough time with you…”

Geralt fidgeted, fighting with himself against the urge to listen in to what Jaskier was saying, to stop himself from imagining what Lambert must feel like, to have those gentle words directed towards him.

“Coming in,” Eskel said, his only warning before he settled into the water across from Geralt. Geralt pushed his hair away from his face and looked away from both of them, knowing the flush on his cheeks remained. Possibly even more concerning, Eskel seemed completely at ease, not commenting on Jaskier and Lambert’s little  _ scene. _ With the silence he could hear Jaskier’s voice again, and it had lifted a bit, barely lower than his regular speaking voice but still soft.

“You are the center of me.” It was just so damn  _ tender. _

Lambert sighed, and Jaskier quieted for a moment. There was the telltale sound of a kiss and Geralt risked a glance over, saw Jaskier with a hand on Lambert’s cheek while their lips pressed together. Geralt’s chest tightened with something like emotion, and he looked at Eskel, who was staring back with a light smile.

“Sweet, ain’t it?” He asked. Geralt didn’t know how to respond, and was glad he didn’t have to, because Lambert spoke next.

“Jealous?” He said, snark in full swing.

“Lambert, you dick,” Jaskier said immediately, and Lambert laughed.

“What? Just asking. You know how-”

“I’m sure they have plenty of good relationships,” Jaskier scoffed.

“No, he’s right,” Eskel said, crossing his arms behind his head and tipping his head back. “What you two have is... pretty unique.”

“I’m not jealous,” Geralt broke in, adding in his thoughts.

“Sure,” Lambert snorted. Fuck, Geralt was going to have to talk about his feelings again to get the shithead to stop insulting him.

“It’s true, I’m,” He gritted his teeth for a moment, closing his eyes and looking down at the water. “I’m happy for you.” He thought about the distress in Lambert’s voice when he’d realized his feelings for Jaskier. Seven years was a long time to love someone without realizing it, he thought. He wondered if Jaskier had  _ any  _ idea of what Lambert felt for him.

Probably not.

“Eskel is right.” He sat up straighter, leveling both of them in his gaze. “Witchers don’t get happy endings. But if you find that with each other…” he let his attention focus on Lambert, a pointed reminder of their conversation on the roof. Geralt hadn’t had the words then, but he knew what to say now. “If you get a shot at happiness, it’s worth it. A friendship, an ally, a partner. Any risk you can take, it’s worth it if it means you can find something good in this miserable world. Take your chances. You never know when you’ll die. Especially us.”

He deserved a gods damned pat on the back for that speech. Write that on his grave, he thought. Maybe he would quit his work and become a poet. All the people who had ever told him he was bad with words? He’d kill them and dance on their graves.

“How long did it take you to come up with that one?”

Starting with Lambert.

\- -

Geralt was on cooking duty the next day, breaking down a deer carcass and inspecting it for disease when Jaskier came into the kitchen.

“If you’re looking for Lambert he’s with Vesemir. They went out to the courtyard with Eskel.” Geralt jammed his thumbs into the deer’s ribcage, using inhuman strength to split it open further to clean it out. Jaskier made a slightly disturbed noise from nearby but didn’t leave.

“No, actually. I was looking for you. I thought it might be about time for us to finally have a chat.” Geralt turned to look at him.

“Can it wait until I’m not covered in deer guts?” He raised his hands up to emphasize the point.

“We’ve had plenty of important conversations while you were covered in more concerning gore,” Jaskier pointed out. “You know, like that time before Cintra? The Selkiemore?” Geralt rolled his eyes.

“You always bring that one up.”

“It helps me make a point.”

“And what  _ point _ are you trying to make now?”

“How much do you know about my, ah,  _ relationship _ with Lambert?” Oh.  _ That _ conversation. The very one Geralt had been avoiding Jaskier for so they wouldn’t have. It wasn’t because he didn’t want to talk about it, but because Jaskier had known him for  _ fourteen years. _ Jaskier had always been good at reading people, and Geralt was positive he would figure out Geralt knew more than what he could say. He didn’t want to accidentally bring Lambert’s feelings into light when they hadn’t discussed it between themselves.

“More than I wanted to,” Geralt muttered. Jaskier snickered. “Shut it,” he said, though there was no real bite to it.

“Just tell me, Geralt!” Jaskier was practically whining. “You’ve never been shy about gossiping with me before. What’s the harm in sharing what you know?”

“I know that you’ve been fucking for almost a decade, if that’s what you’re asking.  _ Seven years. _ And Lambert told me how you met.”

“How  _ much _ did he tell you?”

“He said you were playing in Redania. Bardic competition, if my guess is right. He said you took him around town, talking. You spent a couple days together and then agreed that it shouldn’t get back to me.”

Jaskier nodded at him. “All accurate. And I  _ was _ playing in a competition, I beat Valdo Marx by a landslide.” Suddenly, Geralt was thrown back to a summer day in Temeria, stumbling across Jaskier in Wyzima. They’d celebrated his victory with far too much drink, and Jaskier had complained about the hangover for  _ hours _ when they went back on the road.

“It was “Fishmonger’s Daughter,” right?” Jaskier grinned, and Geralt shook his head. “I can’t imagine how you seduced Lambert while singing about goat children.” Actually, he could. That song was just raunchy enough for Lambert to find absolutely hilarious. He crinkled up his nose in mild disgust. “No, don’t respond to that,” he said, pointing a viscera covered finger at Jaskier when he opened his mouth to reply.

“Just because  _ you _ were immune to my charms doesn’t mean everyone is, Geralt.” He huffed a soft laugh, returning to his task. “What else do you know?”

Geralt swallowed thickly, forcing Lambert’s confession to the back of his mind. “I know that you two have a… power dynamic.” He wasn’t sure how to approach the topic, wasn’t even sure if he wanted to bring it up at all. But to leave Jaskier satisfied with the discussion, Geralt had to give just enough. “I’m not sure what that’s about.” He saw Jaskier’s face turn red when he looked over his shoulder. “Or how it… started?” That would keep him entertained.

“Well It’s… it’s a bit confusing to me as well, if I’m honest.” Jaskier looked down at his hands in thought. “I’ve taken lovers in the past who wanted me to… well, to  _ control _ them, for lack of a better word.”

Geralt hummed.

“And before, things were normal with Lambert. The sex is phenomenal, don’t get me wrong, but things had been very typical. That first evening in Kaer Morhen five years ago though…”

Geralt saw his hands ball into fists, and noticed the change in the scent in the air to something lighter, fruitier. “I see,” Geralt said, trying to claim the conversation finished because he  _ still _ didn’t want to hear the details. But then, he realized Jaskier wasn’t done asking yet, and a sense of doom sent his stomach into knots. “So what happened?” He asked quickly, turning back to the deer and hoping the snapping of bones and contact from his knife would drown out most of the words. No such luck, though it did keep Jaskier distracted.

“You remember,” Jaskier began. “Lambert and I were fighting all day. I thought he was trying to say we were finished. I realized late that he had been acting. He slipped into my room that evening and I was very frustrated with him. I told him as much, and he asked, it was so  _ sweet _ , Geralt, it sticks in my head, the way he said it. ‘Can I make it up to you, Buttercup?’ I forgave him on the spot.” 

Geralt’s shoulders were tense with discomfort.

“I told him what I wanted from him, and he… gods, he just  _ listened _ so well. And I told him that, too. He liked that. So we continued to do that.”

Geralt gripped his knife tighter while his cheeks warmed. Fuck, but he didn’t want to have this talk.

“It’s become a core of our relationship, even without being accompanied by passion. It’s almost a trust exercise, really, with the… hm, well I guess you wouldn’t understand unless I explained it.” Jaskier sounded like he was preparing for a lecture.

“I think I get it,” Geralt said quickly. Jaskier quieted. Blessed silence.

“What else do you know?” Jaskier asked.

“Nothing,” Geralt replied, cursing himself when he realized his response was suspicious. He should have let Jaskier keep ranting.  _ Fuck. _ “That’s all Lambert told me.” Technically the truth. Lambert didn’t  _ tell him _ he was in love with Jaskier, he found out on his own. He silently prayed that Jaskier would leave, so he wouldn’t risk the secret coming out.

“All he  _ told _ you?” Fuck. Geralt slammed his knife into the joint bone of the deer’s leg.

“Yes,” Geralt said.

“Well that’s not what I asked,  _ Geralt.” _ Jaskier’s voice held a dangerous edge.

“Leave off of it, Jaskier,” Geralt warned. Jaskier chuckled, and Geralt could practically see his grin without turning to look.

“You  _ know _ something.” There was a prod at his back, and Jaskier’s voice appeared very close to his ear. “I can tell when you’re keeping secrets, Geralt.”

“It’s not my place to say.” Another piece of the truth.

“So there  _ is  _ something.” Lilit curse this stupid bard and his observation skills. “He’s  _ my  _ partner, Geralt.”

“And he’s  _ my _ brother.” He wasn’t going to betray Lambert. “It’s not my place to talk about his feelings.”

“His  _ feelings _ ?” Fuck. Eskel has been right, he was stupid. He was the dumbest man alive. He owed Yennefer and Eskel apologies. And  _ fuck, _ if he got out of this, he owed Lambert one. “Geralt, what are you saying?” The scent of Jaskier’s anxiety filled the air.

“Nothing!” Geralt snapped. “I’m not saying  _ anything. _ I told you to leave it be.” Geralt knew he was getting aggressive. Jaskier didn’t deserve it, but his frustration with himself was only growing more intense by the moment. He had almost  _ ruined _ everything. Milliseconds from a confession. The words sat dangerously on the edge of his tongue, and Jaskier  _ wouldn’t leave. _

“Geralt,” Jaskier said insistently. “Geralt, I  _ want _ to know. I won’t breathe a word of it, I swear on my life—“ he sounded desperate, and Geralt swore he cracked a tooth under the force of grinding his teeth.

“ _ No,  _ Jaskier.”

“ _ Please,  _ Geralt-“

“ _ Why?” _ Geralt asked, trying a well-worn strategy. Get Jaskier talking before Geralt caved and did something stupid, like say the truth or worse, use  _ Axii _ to get Jaskier to shut the hell up. If Jaskier started talking they could laugh it off, change the subject, and things could go back to normal.

Except it couldn’t, because,

Because-

“Because I  _ love  _ him!” Jaskier’s voice was frantic, shrill, panicked. “Because I’ve loved him for  _ years.” _ His voice was so  _ defeated. _ “I know now that it’s not just a passing fancy. Please, Geralt.”

“Jaskier, I can’t…” he turned around, saw Jaskier looking blotchy-faced and helpless. “I  _ can’t,” _ he said again.  _ Gods, _ he wanted to. He wanted to be  _ elated _ for both of them.  _ He loves you too, _ he wanted to say.

A tear slid down Jaskier’s cheek. “Gods, just  _ give  _ me this one thing, Geralt.” Geralt shook his head. “Is it because he doesn’t want me?” Jaskier’s anxiety made sense. He knew Jaskier must think the worst, that Lambert didn’t return his feelings, might not even want anything from Jaskier outside of what was apparently phenomenal sex. Geralt wouldn’t be pushed into confessing. He took a breath to steady himself, gain control of his emotions once again. It would have been so easy, though, to admit.  _ I’ve never seen him happier. _

“I’m sorry, Jaskier,” Geralt muttered. Jaskier’s scent turned sharp with fury and sadness. “It’s not my place.”  _ You deserve each other, I want you to be happy. _ He just couldn’t get involved. Not any more.

“Your loyalty remains admirable and overwhelmingly frustrating.” Jaskier heaved a sigh, looking down at the floor. “I fear I shall die a broken-hearted man,” Jaskier whispered. Geralt itched to comfort him. He looked so _small._ But he couldn’t use words, it was too risky, he was so _close_ to breaking. Geralt set his knife down and stepped closer, embracing his friend. “Geralt?” Jaskier asked, even though he hugged back. Geralt didn’t say anything, just held him close. His mind screamed at him to admit the truth, but Geralt pressed his lips together tightly to resist. Jaskier pressed his face against Geralt’s shoulder. “You aren’t going to… to _say_ _anything_ to Lambert, will you?” Another secret.

Geralt didn’t think he had ever hated himself any more. His reliability made the whole thing feel so incredibly  _ unfair _ . As close as he came to admitting the truth? He was going to have to isolate himself for the rest of winter from not one, but  _ two  _ of the people he loved. Eskel and Vesemir could bring him his meals, he supposed. They would have to keep him entertained, because any enjoyment he might have gotten from Jaskier and Lambert was stolen away by his unflinching loyalty to not say anything. Eskel at least knew how to play Gwent, and Vesemir made a good conversationalist.

Huh.

He hadn’t actually  _ seen _ much of Vesemir that winter.

Suddenly, the solution seemed so obvious. He should have thought of it  _ ages  _ ago. He’d been so caught up in the drama, he’d nearly forgotten about the first person he could confide in.

“I won’t say a word to him,” Geralt said, meaning it, and feeling hopeful. He could finally tell someone, could get the weight of these  _ secrets _ off of his mind. He’d still have to keep away from Lambert and Jaskier of course, but at the very least his burden would be gone. With Vesemir’s help, maybe,

just maybe,

They’d all stop being so fucking  _ stupid. _

\- -

“Vesemir,” Geralt said in greeting, taking a step into Vesemir’s workroom. His mentor was running a blade over whetstone, and finished a pass as Geralt spoke.

“I was wondering when you were going to come in.” Vesemir lifted the weapon and tested the edge on his thumb. He nodded in satisfaction and grabbed a cloth. “You’re keeping me awake at night with all your pacing and worrying. What’s on your mind?” Geralt took a deep breath.

“It’s a long story,” he warned. He was still planning on telling him everything, obviously, but Vesemir deserved a warning. Vesemir wiped off the sword and gestured to the side.

“I’ve got time.” Geralt followed the gesture to see several more swords laid out. “Why don’t you help me out?”

Geralt sighed and shut the door behind himself, picking up two of the blades and passing one to Vesemir. Vesemir pushed the course stone to him first. “It’s Jaskier and Lambert,” he said, deciding he should probably start with that much. “They’re… involved.”

Vesemir grunted in confirmation.

“I’m assuming you knew?”

“I know everything that happens under this roof,” Vesemir said with a shrug. Even with just those words, Geralt felt weight from some of his burden lift. He’d made the right choice in coming to Vesemir. His mentor always knew what to say to help Geralt ease. Geralt began to run the blade over the stone, the repetitive motion calming him down. He started telling Vesemir what had been happening with him in the time previous, sparing the more graphic details but making sure Vesemir knew what he meant. He talked about the room switch with Eskel a few nights after they arrived, the following day in the kitchen—

“I’ve never heard him more afraid,” Geralt had said when describing Lambert’s confession. “I felt like I was a trainee again, sneaking around to hear you talk with Rennes.”

—the library, avoiding Jaskier, his chat with Lambert on the roof, his little speech in the bath house. He kept sharpening the blade the whole time, switching to the fine grit stone halfway through the talk about the roof. When he told Vesemir about his last talk, with Jaskier, his mentor sighed.

“They’ve been doing this for seven years?” Vesemir asked.

“So they’ve said,” Geralt said, pausing after his next pass to look at him. Vesemir looked… distressed. Before Geralt could ask, he kept talking.

“Why haven’t they told each other about their feelings?” Vesemir asked. Geralt hummed in thought, considering what he knew about each of them.

“With Jaskier, I think he cares too much to say anything.” That didn’t make sense, he thought suddenly, frowning. “I mean he’d rather love silently than ruin their relationship by admitting how he feels.”

Vesemir waved a hand, chuckling as he runned the back of it over his forehead. “Strange, to see you talking about feelings. You’ve gotten more mature this last decade.” He sounded affectionate, and Geralt felt his cheeks grow a little warm at the praise. “And that  _ sounds _ like something your bard would do,” Vesemir added.

“Right,” Geralt said, trying to shove aside the emotion he’d been feeling. Definitely wasn’t thinking about how fatherly Vesemir seemed, about how he had been the one to watch them all grow up, and how he almost sounded  _ proud _ of Geralt’s growth. Nope. Not thinking about it at all. “As for Lambert,” he remembered their conversation on the roof, the way Lambert had said  _ ‘He’s a human.’ _ “He said Witchers aren’t supposed to get involved with humans.”

“You’re kidding,” Vesemir scoffed. “After you and that bard have been friends for…”

“Almost fifteen years.”

“Did you tell him he was being stupid?” Vesemir sounded exasperated.

“I told him he was an idiot,” Geralt replied. “I also told him I wouldn’t say anything. And I’ve been keeping these  _ secrets _ for them, and I damn near ruined it with Jaskier earlier.”

“Too observant for his own good, that one,” Vesemir tutted.

“Exactly,” Geralt sighed, resuming his sharpening. “I needed to get this off my chest.”

“Feeling better then?” Vesemir asked. Geralt nodded. “Good.”

“I don’t really expect anything to come out of this,” Geralt admitted. “But I’m glad I talked to you.”

“This’ll all be worked out soon, Geralt. Only a matter of time before Lambert follows your lead.”

Geralt chuckled, peering down the length of his blade to check it. A little more and it would be ready. He went back to work. “I hope so. I can’t think in conversation fast enough to knock sense into him, and Eskel is dodging it harder than I am.” 

Vesemir nudged Geralt with his elbow. “It might even be over before the week’s out. Then you’ll have to find something else to keep yourself busy for the season.” He sounded sure of himself and Geralt laughed, shaking his head.

“Thanks, Vesemir,” he said honestly, smiling.

“Anytime, son,” Vesemir patted Geralt’s shoulder and squeezed for a moment before releasing. The paternal feelings he’d been having before threatened to overwhelm him again, and Geralt was grateful when Vesemir kept talking, so he didn’t have to confront it further. “What do you say, a few rounds in the courtyard?” He said, gesturing to the already sharpened blades. Geralt followed his hand.

“Sparring?” He lifted the blade again to check the edge. Just right. “I wouldn’t mind.” 

Vesemir set the sword he’d been working on aside, lifting one from the sharpened sets.

“Though, won’t that make them dull again?” Geralt asked. Vesemir raised a brow at him.

“Some of us have things to do outside of getting involved with the drama of others during winter.” He was right, despite the insult. Geralt needed a hobby. Geralt was far from one to talk back to his former teacher, but the moment felt right for it.

“Kaer Morhen’s been boring for decades. If you’re coming out of your hidey-hole, I think that means you’re just as excited.”

Vesemir chuckled, and Geralt barely refrained from grinning at the participation in his playful insult. “Leave the flirting to your brothers, boy.”

\- -

Geralt and Eskel had been having a pretty nice day, all things considered. With the snow in full swing and cabin fever setting in, there wasn’t much to do. After making the decision to not involve himself any further with Lambert and Jaskier, Geralt had decided to catch back up on his more obscure monster trivia. Even if it was things they didn’t face often, it was always good to keep track of everything he might encounter on the Path. After Eskel discovered what he was up to, he started drilling him on what he knew, bringing down books from the shelves to read when Geralt took a bit too long to answer a question. It felt like being a trainee and studying again, but at least Geralt had company.

He’d gotten comfortable in the routine, so when Lambert burst through the doors of the library six days after it started and punched him in the face during a particularly difficult question about the differences in spectres, Geralt wasn’t expecting it. Hence why he wound up on the ground.

“You mouthed off to  _ Vesemir?” _ Lambert asked. Geralt rubbed his hurting cheek, and Eskel jumped up to step in if things escalated. Geralt was confused at first because he only registered the pain, though based on his entire life so far, he figured he probably deserved it. When he finally processed Lambert’s words, Geralt winced.

“How the fuck did you even find out, hm? I never told you shit!” Lambert’s eyes were wild, panicked, angry.  _ Afraid. _

“It was that day in the kitchen,” Geralt said. “I was up in the rafters.”

“Were you  _ spying  _ on us?” Lambert was accusing him, and Geralt tried to kick his brain into efficiency to respond quickly. The interaction was time sensitive, there wasn’t a moment to waste.

“Fixing the roof,” Geralt clarified. “It was quiet work. I didn’t try to listen in. Hell, I thought about throwing a brick down when you two were being stupid.”

Lambert’s eyes were still hard, but something like realization crossed his features. “So the library…”

“I was going to tell you two I was happy for you. Honest. I avoided Jaskier,  _ my best friend _ , so that I wouldn’t give anything about your feelings away. After he cornered me in the kitchen the other day and I almost ruined it, I had to talk to  _ someone.” _

“You told Vesemir,” Eskel interrupted the conversation, looking at Geralt. He looked excited, and for a moment Geralt thought he could read Eskel— could hear his thoughts. He recognized his face changes because they mimicked Geralt’s when he had discovered that the love between Jaskier and Lambert was mutual. “What did he say?” The question was directed at Lambert.

“He told me to man up,” Lambert said, anger dissipating into resigned confusion. “He asked me how often something good came along in our lives, and said not to let that shit go when it showed up. He didn’t even say his name, but I knew what he meant,” He continued.

Geralt frowned. “What do you mean?”

“ _ You _ didn’t let him go when he came into your life.” Lambert pointed right at Geralt. “No, you kept him around for a decade and a half.”

“He’s my friend,” Geralt said by way of explanation. “That was his choice.”

Lambert made a frustrated sound. “Will  _ someone _ speak  _ clearly _ here? I feel like you’re dodging something that’s so obvious!”

“He loves you.” It wasn’t Geralt who said it, and obviously not Lambert, and when Geralt looked up at Eskel, he was looking at the open door. Geralt peered around where Lambert was looming over him. There was Jaskier, slack-jawed in shock. Geralt looked at Lambert, who was standing, frozen, eyes still locked onto Geralt’s.

“He does,” Geralt muttered by way of confirming. He could hear Jaskier stepping into the room but he kept talking. “He told me himself, in the kitchen before I told Vesemir everything.” Geralt stood up, dusting his hands off on his shirt. “Lambert, we’re not supposed to get involved with humans because they bring trouble. But that’s not who Jaskier is.” He could see the rise and fall of Lambert’s shoulders indicating his heavy breathing. “Jaskier only wanted to bring me companionship, friendship, and I grew from it once I accepted it. Now he wants to give you the same, except...”

“I love you,” Jaskier said, much closer to them than before but still obscured by Lambert’s figure. “I can’t bring you true happiness, but I can give you what I have. companionship, music, my time.” 

Geralt saw Lambert swallow, could see the way his cheeks gained color, could smell the sharpness of tears. “I told you it was worth it.” Lambert turned around slowly, giving Geralt a glimpse of Jaskier behind him. Tears were pouring down his cheeks, but there was nothing but happiness in his eyes.

“You love me?” Lambert asked, voice sounding meek.

“For  _ so _ ,  _ so _ long.” All the pieces were settling into place, and Geralt nearly passed out from sheer relief of it. A month into the season and they were  _ finally _ figuring it out. He circled around them so he could see what was happening. There was a wordless conversation happening between them, but it somehow led to them kissing, which, to Geralt’s knowledge, was a good thing.

“Fucking finally,” he sighed. Lambert made a crude gesture at him but stopped in favor of focusing on Jaskier. When they separated they hugged, and Geralt was almost positive he saw tears at the corners of his brother’s eyes. Not for the first time, Geralt’s chest clenched tight with emotion, and  _ joy _ for the two of them nearly overwhelmed him. He looked away, not bothering to hide his smile, and found Eskel across the room. He looked just as pleased, a soft look on his face and warmth in his eyes. He looked back at Geralt after a moment and grinned.

“About time,” he said. “Five years of this shit. Thought I was going to die before you two ever figured it out.” Neither Lambert nor Jaskier reacted, caught up as they were in their embrace. It left Geralt to be the only one shaking his head at Eskel.

“Seven years, actually,” he pointed out. “They knew each other before Jaskier came with me to Kaer Morhen.”

“Melitele’s tits, they’re hopeless.” Eskel ran a hand over his face. Movement at the corner of his eye caught Geralt’s attention and he watched Lambert and Jaskier step away from each other, affection in both of their eyes.

“They’re right, of course,” Jaskier chuckled. “I don’t know how many times I wrote about you in my notebooks before I realized It was more than a passing affection that I felt for you. Must have been just weeks after my first year here.” Trust Lambert to be the slowest on the uptake, Geralt thought.

“Not as bad as I was,” Lambert said. “Only figured it out a couple weeks ago.”

“Oh, you poor thing,” Jaskier tutted, running a hand up his bicep. “We’re lucky we don’t at least have to make up for lost time.”

“I’m not so sure about that one,” Lambert said. “It’s all felt impersonal compared to what I want.” Geralt rolled his eyes fondly.

“Have you ever even  _ used _ your room, Jaskier?” Geralt asked. Jaskier’s room sat between Geralt and Eskel’s, a guest room that had been converted into Jaskier’s space.

“Of course!” Jaskier looked over to Geralt. “That’s where all of my stuff is! And I nap there, on the colder days when there’s nothing better to do.” That would explain why Eskel hadn’t switched rooms, though he had grown attached to his room and probably wouldn’t have given it up anyway.

“Hm,” Geralt said in response, deciding to leave his thoughts unmentioned. He didn’t want to encourage them to use Jaskier’s room of course, since then he and Eskel would both be annoyed by them.

“Though, now that you mention it, I think I’ll  _ retire _ there for now.” Jaskier kissed Lambert again. “If  _ someone  _ decides to join me, I might suggest you avoid the area for a while.”

“Buttercup,” Lambert began, phrasing it like he was offended. “It sounds like you’re propositioning me.”

Geralt heard Eskel laughing, and couldn’t stop the smile that spread across his face as well.

“Well, maybe you’re not such an idiot after all,” Jaskier murmured. “Come on now,” he said, leaning in closer. He whispered something that Geralt couldn’t hear, but judging by the way Lambert slung Jaskier over his shoulder, he suspected it wasn’t exactly innocent. Jaskier giggled and squirmed, and Geralt saw a grin on Lambert’s face as he left the room. Good for them, he thought with a sigh. It really was what they deserved.

“Thank the gods that’s over with,” Eskel sighed, interrupting Geralt’s musings. “Looks like we’ll be camping out in here for a while.”

Geralt shifted his attention to him.

“Back to studying then?”

Well... that seemed a bit anticlimactic.

Geralt grunted in agreement and walked closer to the stack of books, rubbing his cheek where Lambert had punched it absently. “Where were we?” Geralt settled back down across from Eskel on the ground, still reeling from what had just happened. His concentration would be shot for sure, but monster facts were better than going out in the keep.

Eskel picked up the book in front of him, and started to read.

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave a comment if you enjoyed!! They are truly my lifeblood and very validating. There may also be a smutty, much shorter sequel in the works that really hits on Voyeur!Geralt, for everyone who thinks Geralt deserves to enjoy himself. I did kind of throw shade at him a lot in this fic.
> 
> As always, thank you for reading.
> 
> Find me on Tumblr! [In-love-with-writing002](https://in-love-with-writing002.tumblr.com/)


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